


Blame

by DaddyFuckinLongLegs



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Drug Abuse, Guilt, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, do I have to tag this as "angst"? Because I really hate that word, should probably go in for some hurt/comfort too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 12:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19132237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaddyFuckinLongLegs/pseuds/DaddyFuckinLongLegs
Summary: The Institute is gone. What is there left to fight for?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, it surprised me how emotional I was when I finished the main questline, and how little room there is for the Sole Survivor to process or respond to the majorly traumatic events of this story. Everything just kinda carries on as normal. Let's give the poor guy some breathing space. 
> 
> I'm gonna assume you don't need the spoiler warning, but just in case you haven't finished it... well, go and get on with it.

Piper stepped softly into the house, closing the door behind her. The room was dark, the sun almost disappeared beyond the horizon, casting everything in strange blue shadow, and the residual scent of smoke hung in the air. She took a deep breath, and listened carefully. She could hear him moving, over the soft hum of the Mr. Handy "sleeping" in the corner and the sputtering generator in the yard outside, and she walked slowly towards his room. She stopped, before the door, and her heart sank. His door was open, but the room was empty, a pile of clothes heaped in the middle of the room, half charred and still softly smoking, and two or three broken bottles scattered nearby. He was in Shaun's room.

She rapped gently on the door. No answer. She knocked again, no louder, and murmured his name. She held her breath. Nothing.

"Blue, baby, I'm coming in."

She pushed the door, carefully, and slipped inside.

He was curled, near naked, in the corner by his son's crib, his head resting heavily against the bars, his shoulders heaving as he cried silently into the mattress. Piper swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to keep herself together. It was hard. She'd never seen him like this.

He'd talked about Nora, and Shaun, and his life before; sometimes he needed to be alone with his thoughts, and no matter how much she wanted to be inside his head, she understood. Grief is like that; when you've lost what you love, it's easy to give up on the rest of the world. She'd had her fair share of grief, being left with Nat, learning to cope without her father, before she was even ready to think about leaving home. But having Nat there, to care for, to protect... it had been exhausting, but it gave her a reason to go on. And Nate... Nate had lost so much.  
A wave of guilt and anger hit her; how could she not have seen this? Had she really been so busy falling in love that she'd forgotten that he was a man?

She knelt by his side, touched his shoulder.

"Oh, baby, I'm here."

He shuddered, almost shaking her away, held his hand over his mouth and clenched his eyes shut.

"It's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fucking fault."

Piper stroked his skin gently, silently. She wanted to let him take his time, to let him know she wasn't pushing. Mostly, she had no idea what to say. His skin was cold, rough with gooseflesh, and he recoiled from her touch, like a stranger beneath her fingers.  
  
"Blue?" She started, her voice only a whisper louder than the sound of her hand against his skin. "What... what is it?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

The question was stupid; she knew where he'd been, why he'd had to go alone. Deacon had showed up at her place a couple of times, checking if she'd heard from him, or if he was still underground. Her heart felt heavier every time, the worry that something had happened to him, that he'd been discovered... or betrayed them. She was terrified of losing him either way, but she'd known that there was always a chance that the promise of a life with his son would sway him. She'd tried to come to terms with it. Reminded herself of all he'd seen, and done, in the commonwealth, all the times he'd stood with the vulnerable, seen the devastation that the Institute had caused. Prayed that he'd remember that too. That he'd do the right thing by all the needy folks out here, wasting away under the thumb of an enemy they couldn't even see. That he'd remember Nick. And Hancock. And Preston. All the things they'd built, just good people trying to exist.

Secretly, selfishly, she mostly prayed that he'd remember her. That he loved her enough to come back for her. Just for her.

She knew why he'd disappeared to Goodneighbour only hours after he'd showed up at her place and rummaged through their stash of caps. He'd barely said a word, except that it wasn't her fault. He wouldn't touch her. Just searched the room, grabbed what he could carry, and left. And she'd let him, with her heart in her mouth and her pride in tatters as he brushed her off in the street. What good would it have done if she'd tried to get him to stay? When the shivering, sweating wreck of him turned up at her door almost three weeks later, faded grey, blisters around his mouth, veins bursting through his translucent skin, her heart screamed so hard in her chest that she threw up.

Between her and Nick, they'd helped him get clean, taken turns cleaning puke from the floor, making him eat, keeping him hydrated, flushing him with addictol and sitting up at night to make sure he didn't do himself more damage. He slept mostly, at Nick's place, Nick taking night shifts, ticking quietly in the corner with his case files or a newspaper, Piper visiting while Nat was at school. They didn't talk much; didn't have much to say. One night Nate nearly took Valentine's eye out with a broken bottle after Nick woke him; Nate had been ice cold and buck naked, shivering on the floor and screaming. Some fucking nightmares, Valentine said when he had Piper alone, seem to still happen when the poor bastard's awake. Nate apologised; Nick had been trying to help, it wasn't his fault.

After a couple of days, Hancock showed up, hands in his pockets, eyes to the floor, shuffling his feet in the dirt. Said he was sorry that things had got so out of hand, that he knew Nate was using, but figured it would be easier for the short term. Said he'd tried to intervene after a while, found Nate fucked up in the basement of a warehouse, they'd argued, it turned into a scrap, then Nate had disappeared. Figured he'd turn up dead, or here, Hancock said; sure glad it was here. Asked to see him. They talked it out. It wasn't his fault.

They'd shipped out back to Sanctuary Hills at Nate's request, once he'd got up and about again it had seemed a pretty sensible choice - away from the bigger city's prying eyes and rumour mill, mostly clean of chems and a more solid community. But Piper was scared. Face to face with that big hole where it all started, the shell of everything he'd had before still standing there... She'd have run a mile. But he wanted to go, so she packed up, left Nat with Ellie at Valentine's place, and hit the road with him.

Preston kept the place busy, no one had much time to drop in; Piper thanked him for that, and he'd held her hand, quietly, tightly, and told her how he'd be there, whenever she needed, whenever Nate needed, and to ask for anything. After all, he'd asked so much from Nate. Not your fault, she could hear it in his voice, even as she spoke the words. Not your fault.  
Not your fucking fault.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Piper unwound her scarf from her neck and tried to drape it across his shoulders, looking around for something better, but the room was bare of everything that hadn't been here since... before. She sat, cross-legged, on the floor beside him, resting her hand on his thigh as he balled himself up against the world. _What do you even begin to say_? she questioned herself; _say something, for god's sake, but what do I_ say?  
  
“Baby?” She paused, her breath shivering through the room. “Blue? C'mon baby.. tell me. I'm right here, just... tell me.”  
  
He screwed up his fists, pushing them against his face, covering his eyes, and took slow, shuddering breaths, clawing his way back to the small sanity of conversation. He coughed, his mouth thick with saliva, and looked at her. Looked at her face, searching for something, looked into her eyes, looked right through her.   
  
“I... he was my son.” He swallowed hard, choking up. “He was my son. He was... dying. He gave m- he _trusted_ me! He trusted me. He trusted me, and I _walked away._ ”  
  
“Blue, you did what you had t-”  
  
“Ah, Christ, can it!” He slammed his hand against the wall, Piper recoiled, tears stinging in her own eyes. “For fuck's sake, just can it. Save that shit for someone... someone else. I know what I did.”  
His voice softened to a murmur.  
“I know what I did. I left him there to die, in that _fucking_ room, my _boy,_ and he watched me walk away and destroy it all.”  
  
He let his head fall back against the wall, staring away into the corner of the room, his lips drawn tight, two shining wet streaks mapped silently across his cheeks and down his neck. One small, cold tear traced the side of his jaw as his head leaned back, dripping coldly past his ear and hitting his collarbone. He shuddered. Piper sat, cautiously, wringing her fingers in the hem of her coat.

“Patriot died today.” he spoke distantly, still staring at the crumbling wall. “They told everyone he didn't make it out. He did. He made it out. I was there.”   
  
He looked at Piper, again his eyes searching through her for... something.  
  
“Des gave me...” He swallowed, “a note. From him.”  
  
Piper raised her eyebrows sympathetically. Nate shook his head, grimacing, fresh tears spilling hotly down his face.   
  
“And he told me he _wished I was dead.”_ His mouth trembled as he spoke, his lips pressed hard against his teeth. “Because I destroyed _everything._ I took his family, I took his home, I took his future. All of it. And he...”  
His words trailed off, he shakily mimed putting a gun to his mouth, blowing it all away. Piper quickly reached out her hand, grabbing his arm, holding tightly.   
  
“Oh, Blue...”  
  
They sat silently for a moment, Piper slid closer to him, wrapping her arm through his. Nate let his hand fall to her knee, gripping tentatively, like she was the only thing anchoring him to the world, and she might just dissolve in his hands. He licked his lips, salt stinging the corner of his mouth.  
  
“And there's a kid.” He nodded, to himself, voice shaking. “A kid. A synth. He's... with the railroad, right now. He calls me dad.”  
  
He broke down, curling into her arms, his head on her shoulder, tears crashing heavily on her neck. She slid her hand into his hair, cradling him, trying to keep her face turned just enough to not crowd him with her own tears.  
  
“He calls me _dad._ But _my boy is dead._ ”

 


End file.
